Tomorrow Will Be A Better Day
by beautiful-surreal
Summary: The 3/11/11 tsunami and earthquake disater hits Kiku while in a World meeting. Alarmed- and aware he isn't alone- Kiku rushes off in a panic to find Miyagi, his worst-hit prefecture amidst the devestation. Please review.


**Disclaimer:** Like usual, I don't own anything I didn't create.

**A/N:** Please let me know what you think of this Hetalia fanfiction. It was inspired by SlomberPoppy's 'Prayer For Japan' on deviantart. com

. com/favourites/#/d3bwxem

R&R.

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><p>He knew. As his right shoulder hit the floor, taking the brunt of his weight as it broke his fall before his head bounced and he held himself, curling himself up with his knees touching his arms that were crossed over his chest. He knew as the pain wracked his body, making him grit his teeth and tremble, glaring through the pain at the red carpeting as he was lost in his mind. He knew, as his left side bore the brunt of his pain, as his friends yelled his name, ran to kneel by his side, pulling him up into the closest they could get him to a sitting position, yelling for aid. It wasn't just him that was bearing this pain. His left side ached, a burning, cracking, freezing, rushing feeling like forceful waves over his ribs, under his arm as he clutched at it, only serving to remind him painfully.<p>

He was just a country. He wasn't alone. He had friends, friends closer to him than the ones he knew at this meeting- the other countries. He had prefectures- people- friends he had to look after, and this pain wasn't felt by just him alone. His people, his friends, his prefectures… were people who were a part of himself. People, friends he loved. They were closer than friends, they were family. They were more important to him than anything, and they could feel his pain, as well as he could feel theirs.

This pain was theirs. On his eastern coast, represented by his left side, the east of his body if his head was the north. Three prefectures, three of his friends, family, life. They were being assaulted, attacked, hurt, burned, broken. Kiku let out a muffled scream of despair, turning his face into the surface closest to him as he screwed his eyes shut with the pain. It could've been a pillow or the floor, he couldn't tell anymore. His mind went blank as he searched for the three of his hurt, important people. His mind traveled into his heart.

_Who… who… Who have I lost? Who has survived? Who are they? Who are they? Who are they?_

"Miyagi…" he grunted out, and arms tightened around him. He was in someone's lap, and he felt them bring their ear closer. "Miyagi… Iwate-chan… Fukushima-kun… Tokyo… Tokyo's… ok… rattled. Fukushima-kun… injured… a sprained arm, bruised leg… Iwate-chan… bashed up… bruised… sprained neck… whiplash… Miyagi… Miyagi…" I searched for him, deeper in my heart, fear starting to make me feel cold. I opened my eyes in desperation, as if to help my search, unable to see anything until I found him, or gave up. "Miyagi… why…" I found him, and I gasped, my eyes flying wide, going rigid in terror, pushing myself instinctively into a half-sitting position as I stared mindlessly at the opposite wall under the table. "Oh, god! MIYAGI!" I wasn't of a straight mind when I leapt to my feet, ignoring the head rush and repeated callings of my name. Miyagi was more important. Much more important.

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><p>"<strong>MIYAGI! MIYAAGIII!"<strong> I had come here alone, the pilot of the helicopter that had taken me here having flown off, under orders to look for Iwate-chan who was conscious, relaying orders to Tokyo to find Fukushima-kun, who was also conscious. Both were under orders to save and help as many as they could. But here…

I was in a wasteland. The tell-tale signs of an earthquake followed by a tsunami were obvious, and I was terrified.

"**MIIIYAAAAGIIIIII!"** Broken houses, broken roads. Floods and fires. Death and debris. Broken families, broken hearts. I looked around myself at the horrific scenery, eyes desperately raking the remains of the landscape in barely-veiled panic. He could be anywhere. Normally something like this would mean- **"MIIYAAAGIIII!"** –it had happened before. I gasped, the tears finally breaking through the carefully-built barrier I had made to keep others from seeing into my heart in public. "Miyagi…"

I was stronger than this. I had to be stronger than this. I thought as I placed a hand to my face, slowly squatting down in the ankle-high water, the hems of my trousers turning brown with the water. I had to be. I couldn't be strong… I couldn't be strong.

"_The grass moved with the wind, flexible, whipping this way and that in the storm, going wherever the wind wanted it to go. In the morning, the grass was still there, whilst the stubborn tree had snapped in two."_ The old story Arthur had told me years upon years ago at our first meeting, rang through my head, and I sobbed, slumping forward under the weight of my sorrow, my shame at my hopelessness weighing me down as I placed my free hand in the water against a hard surface to help me keep my balance.

"_What does that mean, England-san?"_

"_Oh please, you can just call me Arthur. Nothing so formal as that."_

"_Arthur-san."_ The Brit had rolled his eyes subtly at my stubborn formality.

"_It's a story we tell to our children here in England. America liked it so much, he started telling it at his house too. Apparently all the states loved it when they heard it for the first time, and they passed it on as well."_ He had given me an absent-minded fond smile as he looked slightly over his shoulder at me, from where he had been watching the two playing children he had told the story to. _"The story means that we can't be strong all the time. When we meet a force that is stronger than us, it is best to bend with it, like the grass in the wind, so that we don't break like the tree."_ In other words- at the moment- I had to take a break from being strong. I couldn't be strong all the time, or I would break like the tree. I sighed and moved to wipe my tears away. The place on my left side over my ribs had turned a nasty purple, fading nearly into black at the center. The fact was that it wasn't black. There wasn't a scar there or anything, and the bruise would heal, so Miyagi couldn't be- there was no way he'd…

A foot was sticking out from under a roof, covered by green plaid trousers. I froze for a second in instant disbelief before I sprang forward.

"Miyagi!" The roof was heavy, but miraculously, I managed to lift it, and then shove it aside. I looked down, blood running cold as I saw the familiar face I had been longing to see, pale as death, his semi-permanent headphones lying crushed a yard or so away, his walkman crushed as well, his favorite Muse cd lying shattered inside. A part of a wall lay over him from his chest to his thighs, and I flung it away, falling to my knees by his side. My breath came in short and quick, my black hair falling over my eyes as I panted, water soaking through my trousers as I caught my breath before raising my eyes to look at him.

Miyagi. He was battered, bruised and bloody. At least one of his arms was broken, and his lips were bloodstained from the inside out, indicating internal bleeding. His stiff blond hair was wet with water and bloody where his head had contact with the wood it rested on. His katana was lost, yet he wore the sheath on his hip. His pink haori was soaked with muddy, bloody water, and his grey jacket bore spots of red. He was badly hurt, and that was to say the least. I licked my lips, nervous, worried.

People like us… aren't normal people. We can live forever, and can take damage that a normal person would die from. Then again, we could die from things that normal people couldn't. For instance, a country, a prefecture, or the immortal personification of an important place, is only as good as the people who care for it. A country is made up of people as well as land. If the country lost it's people, it would lose it's personality, it's identity. If the landscape disappeared, the trees, the buildings that it's people created, it would lose it's memories. If a country lost both, like what would happen with a nuclear bomb, it would become a soulless entity, unable to think, a vegetable. If that land itself was destroyed, like Atlantis was, everything would disappear but for legends to remind us of it. If people forgot about it, moved away, stopped caring, the same thing would happen. It would just disappear, like it never existed. Like Camelot.

Miyagi. His lands were razed, his people fled, and there he lay here in front of me, half dead. I looked at him keenly under my bangs from where I was slumping, elbows resting on my thighs. His people fled, but they'd come back. With some help, we could rebuild him and essentially get him 'up and running' again. Things could go back to the way they had been, but… I reached out shakily to cup his cheek and sighed in relief when I felt a hint of warmth in it, then chided myself. He was alive, certainly, but things could still happen. I sighed and calmed myself. Things could still happen, I thought as I slid one arm under Miyagi's knees while I slipped the other one under his shoulders, gripping his shoulder on the other side of his body and lifting him up into my arms as I stood. –But I was here now, to make sure that they wouldn't.

I walked out into the wide open spaces and headed back to where the helicopter had left me, wading through the water, white uniform jacket hanging open. I looked sadly down at Miyagi, whose head hung limply back over his shoulders in my arms, his arms folded over his stomach. It would take time until he was all better and back to how he used to be, but even the same… he would never be who he was before this disaster. He could never be exactly the same any more. He'd lost too many people. Too many memories he'd never regain. After he woke up, his personality would be changed, along with his culture. Everything would be somewhat different, but at least he was still alive.

"Kiku-san!" I looked up. Iwate-chan was yelling to me with one hand near hear mouth and pausing to wave both arms wildly over her head to catch my attention. I winced at the sight of the medical foam neck support wrapped carefully around her throat. "Kiku-saaaan! We're ok! We're ok!" A small smile spread across my face at the news, and Fukushima-kun, who was standing next to her with his arm in a sling smiled at her affectionately and ruffled her hair. She beamed at him. They both looked worse for wear, but they were still standing, and that was good news for me. I smiled.

Tomorrow would be a better day.


End file.
